


Public Transportation

by BotchedExperiment



Category: Ava's Demon
Genre: Fluff, Human AU, M/M, Sickfic, domestic AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-26
Updated: 2016-03-22
Packaged: 2018-02-27 01:24:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2673662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BotchedExperiment/pseuds/BotchedExperiment
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Odin decides that riding the bus is a little more tolerable this time after he meets a cold-ridden Gil. Unfortunately, he also accidentally steals his backpack.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Your day starts by your alarm clock failing to go off, leaving you a rushing mess. You pull out the khaki pants that you are required to wear at work, not sure if they're the clean pair. After a long search for a shirt to wear, you finally find one behind your dresser. That'll do.

You almost forget to put on your second shoe before running out of your apartment to catch the bus. You're still trying to put on your coat and wipe snow off of your shoes as you feed your bus pass into the machine, grabbing it as soon as it comes back up. The driver just gives you the look that says "damn kids" that he gives you every morning. Needless to say, you're used to that look.

You find a place near the center of the bus, probably the only empty bench left. The next person who comes on the bus will have to sit next to someone. Public transport is like a sport that everyone hates playing but does it anyway.

Lucky for you, the next person who gets on the bus is not another creepy old guy who looks drunk. Instead, it's a tall, young, blue-eyed guy with fluffy-looking hair. He looks a little stressed, but out of everyone on this bus, you decide that he is the one less likely to be a serial killer.

He puts two dollars into the machine and pulls his backpack on his shoulder as he turns to find a seat. The guy frowns as he scans the bus. He looks in your direction and you're obligated to look down and avoid being noticed like everyone else.

You see a pair of blue converse near you and slowly look up. He smiles.

"Do you mind if I sit here?"

You shrug and shake your head "G-go ahead."

The guy lets out a sigh of relief and sits down, pulling his backpack onto his lap. "Thanks!" It isn't soon afterwards that he clears his throat. You take it as him trying to get your attention but apparently that isn't the case, because he's coughing. It isn't an "I-Just-Came-In-After-Inhaling-Freezing-Air" cough, either. It's dry and painful-sounding, almost making you wince.

The guy's face is still buried in the crook of his elbow as he clears his throat a second time. He sits up, frowning and probably well aware of the several people looking at him. "Goodness, sorry about that."

He begins pawing at his nose. It's obvious that the guy is sick, and people are starting to look. So yes, you do feel a little sorry for the random person on the bus. You reach into your own backpack as he continues sniffling quietly, and pull out a crumpled yet unopened package of tissues. You keep some with you in case of unsuspected allergies, but you don't think that that would be much of a problem in December.

"Here," you say, loud enough to get his attention. "You l-l-look like you need th-these." You hold them in front of his face and watch as he takes them, chuckling nervously.

"Heh...thank you." He doesn't wait too long before opening the package and pressing a couple of tissues to his nose. 

You admit that he looks pretty miserable, and from the two minutes that you have sat next to him, he seems reasonable enough to take a sick day if he could.

The bus jerks to a stop in front of a small grocery store. You watch a family and an old woman step off. It isn't until you look to your right that your ill bus buddy is headed toward the door as well, leaving behind his backpack and wallet.

"H-hey!" you yell. You watch the doors shut behind him and hope that he has fun shopping without a wallet.

\---

Anyone else would have had the decency to tell the bus driver that something was left on the bus. But what do you do? Pick up that dude's stuff and walk off with it. You didn't steal it, you aren't _that_ horrible of a person, but you aren't really sure why you took on the responsibility of returning it. Maybe he just interested you. Or maybe you were worried someone else would take it and walk off with it. 

You pull out your phone book and then peak in his wallet to get a name from his ID, trying to ignore the fair amount of cash staring you in the face.

When you punch in his number, and with a deep breath you press call. Phone calls have never really been your thing. With your stuttering and anxiety you would be more comfortable just leaving all of his junk in front of his door, but you're a responsible adult now and you're the one who made the stupid decision to take his stuff. What the fuck were you thinking? You're a complete moron.

"Hello?" Any smoothness in his voice the day before was ruined by a hoarse edge.

You glance at his name in the phone book "Uh, Gil? M-my name's Odin. You left your bag o-on the b-b-bus yesterday and-"

You hear a sigh of relief, and a weak cough after that. "Thank goodness! I'll come pick it up right-"  His sentence is cut off by a much more painful sounding cough. You end up wincing and pulling the phone away from your ear. "Right away." he finishes "Sorry about that."

"If it's too m-much trouble I could j-just drop it off."  You mentally wince and begin to hope that you don't come off as creepy.

He goes silent for a couple of seconds. "That uh, that would actually be really nice of you."

He seems so kind and insistent that you let him give you his address even though you have it in front of you. And "I know where you live" isn't exactly the best thing to say.

It isn't long before you are in front of an apartment building, a scrap of paper in your hand with his address written on it. You wander around in the hallway for a few seconds before seeing apartment number six. While other people in the building are blasting music or watching television, this guy's apartment is completely silent. You stand there like an idiot before knocking quietly.

A few seconds go by and you knock again. Finally you hear footsteps and a "One moment!" shouted frantically.

The person you are face-to-face with does not look like the guy that you sat next to on the bus. Well, same blue eyes that you have to try not to get lost in, and same delicate appearance altogether. (Not to self: you will never use the word "delicate" again.) This time he's taken on a disheveled appearance, hair going every which way and loose-fitting clothes wrinkled undoubtedly from having slept all day.

You realize that you're checking him out and quickly extend your arm to hand him his backpack. "Everything's th-there. I d-did go through y-your wallet b-but that was just to f-find your ID..."

His eyes widen "Oh! You're the one from the bus. I apologize, I didn't know it was you who had called me."

"Y-yeah, I guess I should have mentioned th-that."

"Well thank you, Odin," He says your name as if he's not sure, but it makes you happy that he actually remembered it. Even your siblings have gotten your name wrong at times. "I hope that you didn't drive very far."

You shrug "J-just fifteen minutes." Your mission is complete and you are ready to leave. You're on your way to the door when you feel a hand on your shoulder.

You're met with blue eyes, and almost bump into him when you're trying to turn around. "W-what?" There's an irritated edge to your voice that you want to apologize for.

"Come inside. I was about to make some tea but you seem more suited for hot chocolate. Am I wrong?"

"You're n-not." You smile just a little and follow him into his apartment.

With a glance around his home you can tell that he is…financially secure. If you had taken cash out of his wallet he probably wouldn't even miss it- shit! you need to think about something else.

There's a pile of blankets on the sofa and two bottles of medicine on the coffee table next to it. "M-must not be feeling any better."

"Hm?" he steps out of the small (excruciatingly tiny) apartment kitchen and follows your gaze to his mess of a living room, blushing softly "Oh, um, yes." he goes back into the kitchen but that doesn't stop him from trying to talk over the faucet and clanking of dishes. "See, yesterday I had woken up not feeling well, but I wasn't very prepared for cold and flu season. I thought that it wouldn't hurt to go to the store but my car is being fixed so I had to take the bus and…" His voice cracks at the end, resulting in a small coughing fit. "Ahem…My week could be going better."

"Sounds l-like it."


	2. Chapter 2

 

 

 

People tell you your apartment building reeks of smoke, but you can't even tell. You're not sure if anyone else in your building actually smokes or the smell is just embedded in the walls forever. Your friend Gil, in particular, mentions it every time he visits your home. You remember when he found out that you smoke on occasion, he went into a long ramble about the damage it could do to your lungs. You thanked him and went outside to smoke.

 

It's been about a month since you first snatched his backpack and delivered it personally. A month since you drank tea and hot cocoa together until Gil couldn't stay awake any longer and you needed to get home and sleep for a couple hours before you woke up for work.

 

A month since you realized that you might be in love with this random guy who owns an expensive backpack and whose eyes are a piercing blue that you can't stop looking at.

 

You key yourself into your apartment and promptly collapse on the sofa.

 

Your shift seemed so much longer than it was, and that was all thanks to a man who chose to make fun of your stutter in front of a large line at your checkout station. You need the money, but sometimes you'd really, REALLY, like to quit this job.

 

You're fantasizing about possible ways to say 'I quit' when you get a text message.

 

_Gil:_

_Are you busy right now?_

 

You think about it for a moment.

 

_No, why?_

_Want to get coffee?_

 

You don't have any more cash for bus fare right now and he should know that since you spent the morning bus ride telling him that you're broke. And then you remember that there's a coffee shop within walking distance.

 

You've never actually been there, but-

 

_Meet you there then?_

 

Well dang, he can read your mind, apparently.

 

_Yeah, sure._

 

Maybe something is up. Why would he want to see you on such short notice?

 

You climb out of your work uniform and head to the coffee shop, crossing the busy street by the little strip mall it's in.

 

Gil is waiting for you at a table near the door. He pushes a cup toward you as you sit down, "Hot cocoa, hope you don't mind my ordering for you."

 

Hey, you think, as long as he paid for it. You don't say that out loud.

 

You take a sip of the delicious chocolatey drink, and that's about when you realize Gil looks pretty freaking weird. He looks nervous. Not out of the ordinary for him, you'll admit, but it is when you two are on a coffee date.

 

"O-okay," You give in, "What's g-g-going on?"

 

He frowns and his eyes widen like a deer caught in headlights, like he'd been found out before he could explain himself.

 

"I had something to talk to you about, and I thought it'd be more polite to do it in person." There we go. "Sorry I asked you to meet me without explaining myself."

 

"It's okay!" You assure him, "I w-wasn't doing anything anyway."

 

He takes a sip of the liquid in his own cup and runs his fingers through his bleach-blond hair, "My apartment building," he finally starts, "Is being torn down."

 

Well that wasn't what you thought this was about. He stares and you and swallows, waiting for your response, a facial expression, anything. What you give him is a quick, "You can stay with me." You're not sure where that came from, but your sofa is comfortable . . . And so is your bed. If anyone was going to be your roommate you'd want it to be Gil.

 

"Oh gosh, Odin, thank you."

 

You're smiling now, smiling too much and you can't stop it because you're kind of excited.

 

As you smile, Gil explains the issue with his building, how it had been sold to someone who planned on tearing it down and building a big fancy bank in place of it.

 

"Is next Monday all right?"

 

Next Monday rolls around and you clean your apartment just for the occasion. No clothes on the floor, no dirty dishes, all things you hope will impress Gil when he arrives. Your home was never as clean as it is now.

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
